"I am a woman now, Luce, and it is only natural that I should wish to know other women—and men too."
At that he laughed raspingly.
"Why d-drag in the women?"
She looked at him scornfully. It was ridiculous of him to pretend that men meant more to her than women.
"It is unreasonable of you to expect me to spend my youth in secrecy and seclusion, just because you—" she stopped hastily.
"Go on!" he said with a devilish gaiety. "'Just because you happen to have a face like a mutilated b-baboon'—was that what you were going to say?"
"Oh Luce, you know it was not! Because ... because ..." she stood stammering with distress, while he stood grinning. "Because you don't happen to care for the society of other people—was what I was going to say.... Don't think," she went on appealingly, "that I don't appreciate all you have done for me. I remember it every day and every night.... I shall never forget it ... and though I know I can never repay you, I will show you all the rest of my life how grateful I am.... But I don't see what difference it would make to you to let me know a few people ... you have so many friends ... surely you know some nice women who would call on me——"
He broke out in a harsh voice, smiling no longer. "You are mistaken; I have no friends. The whole thing is out of the question and impossible."
"I don't see why it should be at all," she pursued valiantly; "if you get me some pleasant woman as a chaperon."
"In God's name what do you want with women?" he burst out. "A g-girl like you will never find a friend amongst them. They will hate you for your face, and your brains, and your youth.... They are d-devils all—lock, stock and barrel.... They'll rip you open and tear the story of your life out of you; if they once find out that you are a South African they'll never rest until they have nosed out the whole thing, and then they'll fling the t-tale to the four winds and the first thing you know you'll have your Bloemfontein aunt bearing down on you——"